


Theseus's boat

by Verse



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Character Study, Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26729008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verse/pseuds/Verse
Summary: How many planks can you change until it's not the same boat?(How many scars? How much trauma? How wild of a thought- that once upon a time, the Master of Chaldea was a normal person.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Theseus's boat

The smell of smoke is thick in your nose when suddenly, above the blaring alarms and the swears, someone screams "someone got rayshifted in with Mash!"

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh _fuck_. Your fingers dance on the keyboard. _How_ did they survive that explosion? Who even is it? You’re too busy making sure _no one else die_ to really ponder much, but those thoughts cross your mind.

They manage to come back, somehow. Which, good. Always nice to see people being alive. They're hurried to the nurse's office, doctor Roman hot on their heel, and from the glimpses you can see they're-

a kid.

They can't be a day older than twenty. 

They’re bruised and battered. Their hands are shaking. There's soot on their knuckles, trembles in their limbs, and they're a _kid._

And they have to go back. They have to. they have to.

(being the sole survivor was no mercy)

* * *

They come back from Orleans with burns everywhere. Some will leave a scar.

You find them in an obscure corner of the cafeteria once, nursing a drink.

“… What makes a person?” They ask you.

You don’t know what to answer.

“The servants… they’re people. You know that?”

You’d disagree. You’d bring up mage theories and the likes.

But. well. You've been working with Da Vinci s for some time now. They’ve brought home a couple servants of their own, too. You can’t deny that. Feelings and thoughts and actions are not something you can deny.

“… She was one too. That jeanne… she angered. She suffered. It wasn’t her pain but also it kind of was. dDo you get it?”

You don’t. But you can see they hurt, they hurt so badly, and your own heart squeeze for them.

* * *

Rome rolls in.

They come back quieter.

You have work harder. You still have four of these to go.

* * *

Okeanos. This time, they’re chattier. It’s good. It’s good but they’re almost… too happy. Their skin is sticky with seasalt and they’ve started to joke about how crazy that whole situation is.

That’s good. You think.

(You hope.)

* * *

London rolls in. They come back hands shaking and disturbed out of their skin, but there’s something like steel in their eyes, determination and rage and-

“I will not let it disappear.” They look at the sky through the windows. It’s covered by the blizzard, as usual. “I will not let any of you disappear.”

love.

* * *

America. Your job isn’t to observe them. You only know the general gist of their adventures. But the person who comes back from America-

Nightingale. Rama. Medb. Servants who love too much for this world. This human who comes back from America loves, too. Not in the way one loves friends, or pets, or, fuck, a color or whatever. They _love._ And it frightens you. They smile through busted lips.

They’ve summoned many spirits, by now. Some of which were enemies, once upon a time. They used to be so uncomfortable, crossing Saber Alter in the halls. They used to be so jumpy. Now they smile. 

They always smile.

* * *

Camelot, and, this is it. 

This is what breaks this human, you’re sure.

There is light in their eyes and light crackling from that wound at their side and a tremble in their hands. For quite some time, they leave sand anywhere they go. For quite some time, they do not speak.

You bring them lunch once, one day they decide to stay in their room for rest. (One day they _are_ in their room- you don’t know where they go when the days where they’re not. Your bet is in the vents, or somewhere equally cramped and dark, perfect to hide. Perfect for safety. But you’re not sure. No one is. When that human doesn’t want to be found, staff or servant, _you will not find them.)_

You don’t intend to stay.

They look at their plate. Then at you.

“… I will have to kill all of them, eventually. They’ll turn on me. And I’ll have to kill them.”

it’s not a question. It’s just a thought given voice. A statement of a truth.

You scuffle away as far as you can.

* * *

Babylonia. The human who comes back to Chaldea is a feral thing. Eyes wide. hole body shaking. Curses and blessings marring their skin in scars no humans were ever meant to bear (and smiling, smiling, always smiling, always _teeth bared_.)

“If it exists, it can be killed. You understand, right? _It can be killed._ ” They’ve been muttering that for a while now. Over and over and _over_. “It can be killed. It can be killed. Human or god or beast- it can be _killed_.”

They don’t say it. They might not even think it. But what you think is: _and they will be the one to do the deed._

* * *

Solomon's temple rolls in, and you lose so much. Dr Roman. Half of Chaldea. Reconnecting with the outside world is a fucking experience.

And.

That human.

They’re outside with Mash, looking at the bright blue sky. their body is painted blue with bruises and white with scars and so many other colors from magics forced upon them. Light shines behind their eyes. They’re crying, and smiling, and living.

This is the face of a human who has killed a god.

This is the face of a human who has known grief and horror beyond compare.

This is the face of a human who would _**never**_ be able to go back to who they used to be.

and this child frightens you, terrifies you, but fuck. _fuck_. it’s your turn to protect them.


End file.
